A Bandit in the Midst
by Socratic Lemurs
Summary: Not all bandits are created equal. Not all bandits are even actually bandits. Story follows an OC who comes into the fray as a Pandora native and watches the events of BL2 unfold, with some changes to make the character have some significance. Loooots of cursing. He's a bandit.
1. Three Vault Hunters Walk into a Cave

**Why hello there. Welcome to my magical word wonderland. Honestly, this exists cause I was playing Borderlands 2 and felt like it'd be interesting story fodder. So, enjoy. Or not.**

**I do not own Borderlands.**

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**Chapter One: Three Vault Hunters Walk into a Cave...**

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_Shit. Everyone's freaking out. What's going on? What the fuck do I do?_ I run out of my bunk and into the corridor, and I see it. Everyone's dying. There's just this one guy, this big black guy, and he's blowing them all to bits. My father's in front of me now. He throws me back into the bunk and tells me to stay there. It was just a flash, a second, two max, but everyone is just fucking dying. I can't move. Dad must have paralyzed me. There's no way I'm this scared. I've never even been scared. _Fuck, what am I doing?_ I ask myself the question over and over, but nothing can make me go back out there.

Five minutes later it's over. The guy came through, took what he wanted, and left. I burst back out, and there are bodies everywhere. _What the fuck? What the fuck? What did we ever fucking do?_ There's dad. Thank _God he wised up and played dead_. I touch his shoulder. No response. He's not playing. He's gone.

I woke up with a start. That fucking dream again. That was the day I snapped. No, not like the psychos. Well, maybe a little like them. Like everyone else that survives to adulthood around here. I snapped into Pandora. It's a fucked up world, and that day marked my realization of that simple fact of life. That was three years ago, when I was still a preteen. The day after was the day I looted Ziva, named for the girl I stole her from, loaded her up with some spare shells, and went on my first trip Skag hunting. Only bagged one that day, but I came home, and that meant I could do it again the next. And the next. And the next.

I heaved myself out of bed, strap Ziva on, and head into the Tac Room, familiar faces grinning at me from all around. Derek, who was out yesterday, but got back this morning to assess the damage, was very pleased with me.

"It's good to know I left the Cellar in the right hands, Ed." He slapped me on the back and continued, "The rest of these sorry sacks tell me you did a mighty fine thing when them Bloodshots came calling."

I looked up at Derek with a smirk. "What is it about this damned rock that makes it 'a mighty fine thing' to kill a man?"

Alan was never really the brightest, but he liked to chime in anyway. "Oh, you killed more'n one man. Reckon they left behind a good twenty or thirty when they picked up on th' fact that you wasn't havin' any o' their shit." Nods of confirmation came from the other two. Mike hadn't really said anything. He rarely does. Greg's silence was a bit odd, though.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, well the Cellar isn't what she was, but damned if she isn't worth putting up a fight. Now, if you boys will excuse me, Ziva wants to taste some Skag meat. Tactical meeting adjourned?" Without waiting for an answer, I headed out.

Good pull. Another forty or so Skags and twenty-something Bullymongs meant those populations were both under control, and a few of my fellow bandits who got too cocky or too greedy had been left as corpses to ensure that nobody fucked with the Cellar. Such was necessary to maintain our little sliver of peace in this hellhole some call a planet. Sundown was coming, and I was satisfied with the day's work, so I headed back.

Immediately, something felt wrong. There was no one at the door. It's just a tin sheet thing that keeps the cold wind out of the cave, but there's always, always someone out in the chair. What was going on? As I push the door out of the way and walk in, I find out: there, walking back towards me, stepping over bodies, was a blue-haired woman with tattoos on her shoulder. Our eyes met. Two seconds later my shock pistol was drawn and a round had been placed straight into her shield generator. She'd need a new one.

I didn't have time to gloat. That SMG she pulled out looked nasty. I rolled behind a barrel. Not much cover in the Cellar. Turned out I was right. Where I used to be there was a hissing noise and smoke was coming from some green shit in the rock. _Corrosion? Really? Fuck._ I was gonna need to be careful.

Pistol holstered. I get a firm grip on Ziva, think about praying, and then remember that nothing sane enough to listen to a prayer could possibly have put this place here. I jumped out, pinpoint the bitch's new position, and fired a shell at her chest. Fourteen rounds found their marks. Fourteen bullet wounds lit up in glorious hellfire. I still had the upper hand. She raised her caustic SMG. Looked like a Dahl, taking a second to examine it. I just stepped to the side. Her arms weren't responding well. _Fuck, if they were, with her body literally going up in flames, I'd fucking let her kill me right here._ She turned to me and gave me this look. I was raising Ziva for the killing shot when she pointed her hand at me and made a fist. I lost my balance . I managed to get the trigger pulled, but my aim was off. As I was picked up by some weird black sphere, I realized I wasn't dead. I had hit her and she couldn't aim correctly at me. _For fuck's sake. I love you, Ziva. _

The fucking black shit dispersed eventually, and I was dropped onto the wet rock floor. After getting up and regaining my composure, I get the pistol back out and point the crosshair directly at this girl's forehead. "Care to try that again?"

That was it. I had won. She raised her hands up in defeat. I was getting some kind of high from it. I felt great. Then this massive guy just had to walk in and spoil it all. "Hey shithead bandit. You really think messing with Vault Hunters is a great idea?"

_Vault Hunter? The fuck would a fucking Vault hunter be doing here?_ "Okay, a few things, asshole. One: I'm not a bandit. Nobody here was a _fucking bandit_. Don't lump us in with those good for nothing Bloodshots. Two: She fucking came here. She fucking _slaughtered_ _everyone I fucking know._ I didn't 'mess with her.' Three: What the fuck are you going to do about it?"

Apparently I had gotten cocky. Before I saw him move I was on the ground. It wasn't until a second later that I realized he hadn't moved at all. There was a guy in some weird suit on top of me. He was pointing a sword at me, so I didn't feel the need for sarcasm at that precise moment.

Unexpectedly, it was the bitch who killed everyone that spoke up. "Wait, Zer0! He's not like the rest."

Nothing from the guy with the pointy metal stick. Instead, the big guy responded, "And just what makes him so different?"

"Well for one thing he can formulate sentences properly without sounding like a slightly lesser evolved version of Scooter's sister. For another, you haven't seen the kid use those things he has strapped to him."

"Oh? And just what is so great about a punk who can't even take out someone who's been fighting his ilk for hours?"

"Lots of stuff. Like the fact that before he got here, my shields hadn't even been fully depleted once. Look at me now." When Mr. Musculature gave her a look of skepticism, she gave him back an exasperated sigh and tossed the shield generator from her hip into the middle of the room. "That was his first shot. His pistol was holstered less than a second before he took it. He had no idea I existed a second before that."

The four of us, me straining to be able to, what with a guy on top of me and a sword at my neck, stared at the object of the girl's speech. Her shield generator sat in the middle of the floor, with a bullet dead at its center and a nearly symmetrical web of cracks around it. It was very obviously not an accidental shot. I felt a swell of pride, then remembered my situation and fell back into sulking.

Luckily for me—or unluckily, depending on your viewpoint—this seemed to impress at least one other person. The meathead made a clicking noise with his tongue. "Think you could do that, Zer0? Get off him, I guess."

As the weight shifted off of my body, a monotone voice, almost like a recording, sounded, "I could do better/ My skills still remain unmatched/ The boy is good, though."

I stood up, taking the shield generator as a trophy and stuffing it in my bag. "Was that a haiku?"

The girl—Maya—replied, "Yeah… we still don't really get that either."

Soldier Boy decided fun time was over. "Alright, little shit. As of now, you're a prisoner. You come with us. We're taking you to Roland."

"So let's get this straight. I've been captured by some bitch that killed tons of my closest friends, an asshole that could not possibly be any more of a stereotype, and a just-fucking-strange Japanese murderer in a wetsuit?"

"Deal with it."

This was going to be a long day.

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**That was fun. I like this so far. If you do too, shoot me a review and give some feedback. Thanks and good day!**


	2. Sanctuary or Asylum?

**Hi there readers! Chapter two is here, and I rather like this story so far. If you do too, then have fun reading!**

**I do not own Borderlands.**

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**Chapter Two: Sanctuary or Asylum?**

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"Where the fuck are we going?" I shouted over my shoulder after the fourth hour of walking out in the blizzard.

"Sanctuary! Now shut up and keep walking!" The Soldier hadn't gotten any less annoying.

I quieted my tone a little and spoke to the… person, for lack of a concrete gender identification, directly behind me, "Is the sword really necessary?"

"You're good with a gun/I do not want to be shot/Cannot take any risks." Came the rhythmically perfect reply.

"How do you do that? You know what, never mind. I don't have a gun. You can't get shot."

Apparently the response to that wasn't worth the effort of another poem, so instead he just sent his message by prodding me forward with the sword.

I'd been snowblind for the last thirty or so minutes. I couldn't tell the snow on the ground from the clouds in the sky. Some of the most disorienting shit I've ever done. _I don't know how much more of this I can take. What the fuck are they doing to themselves to be fine during this?_

Before I could voice that particular question, I saw something . It was just a glimpse, through the sheet of falling snow, but I thought I saw a wall of some sort. _There it is again._ It was definitely there. Some sort of stronghold in the middle of this damned storm. _Could I? Shit, why not?_

I took off. The weird one—Zer0—didn't react immediately. When he did, he said something into his ECHO. Probably telling the others I was on the run. He was faster than me. I didn't doubt that. That meant I only had a little time. I had to make it past that wall.

I could faintly hear the snow crunching behind me as I ran up to the wall. My savior was here, and he was made of iron. There was a sign. It was covered in snow, but I figured I had at least a second before one of them caught up. I swept my hand over it and read the name of my new residence:

WELCOME TO SANCTUARY

"…Fuck me." I sank to my knees, resigned. _Of all the fucking places for me to make a break for it…_

It was the shithead that got to me first, and he laughed as he threw me over his shoulder. "I see you found Sanctuary. It ain't gettin' any easier for you around here, kid."

I didn't struggle. I was broken. I kind of envied the psychos. They were so fucked up they didn't know a gun from a spiderant, but at least they died fighting. I was going to die shitting my pants.

The other two rejoined the group, and into Sanctuary we went. It was nothing like the Cellar. It was an actual fucking City. I had never seen anything like it. And every single person already seemed to know to hate me. I got dirty looks. I got mocked. Some nut even threw a can of beans at me, which I was honestly rather grateful for, since I was able to catch it, and satisfy my hunger a bit. When the big guy put me down, it was in front of a cell.

"Now, this isn't much of a prison. Sanctuary doesn't generally keep threats alive. But let us assure you, if you do try to escape, you won't make it far enough to have that blizzard to worry about. There's my sentry turret, for one, then there's Maya's phase lock, then there's the fact that you never know where Zer0 is. You haven't met Salvador, and you better pray to whatever it is you pray to that you don't. Krieg and Gaige will fuck you up too, if they're around. So you just sit tight until Roland gets back, got it?"

The shit-eating grin on his face was enough to make me want to try to get out just to spite him, but he had all the cards, so he got to be a bastard. That's how Pandora worked. Handsome Jack knew it, and so did these guys. Thus, I simply sulked in the cell. My small rebellion was refusal to answer. He shrugged and walked away.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew I was being manhandled again. A fist clenched around my shirt and dragged me to my feet.

"Wakey wakey, little bandit. Axton's here, and Roland wants to see you."

And such is how, assault rifle pointed at the back of my head, I met Roland, the leader of the Crimson Raiders… for the second time.

As I walked into the room on the second story of the building I'd been led to, a deep voice made its way into my ears. "So you're the impressive little bandit boy the Vault Hunters picked up? Well then, it seems introductions are in order. I'm Roland. I run this place."

The soldier's gun receded a bit from the back of my head and I looked up. There he was. Roland. My vision went red.

It was him. The big black guy that murdered my dad. Rationality was no longer an option. I kicked backwards, catching the meathead square in the stomach, and grabbed his assault rifle. I swung it around and fired, but Roland was already gone. I could see his uniform peeking out from behind the doorframe. I walked out, pointing the gun at the winded Axton until I was safely behind the other side of the wall, then the barrel was right back on Roland.

He starts talking, oddly calm. "So, this was some elaborate plot to kill me? Impressive for a bandit. You wouldn't happen to be working for Jack, would you?"

I waved the gun at him, trying to intimidate. "Plot? What the fuck are you talking about? I've never even fucking seen anyone from Hyperion. This? A plot? No. This is straight up revenge. This is payback for the Cellar, you goddamn shit."

I pull the trigger—or start to. He's too fast. Maybe even faster than the assassin. He's been doing this for longer than any of them. Definitely longer than me. I'm on the ground. The rifle is a foot or so away from my outstretched hand. One of his hands is pushing my face into the floor. The other is pointing a pistol at the base of my skull.

"The Cellar? You're from that shithole? That was just a bunch of lowlife Bloodshots. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Axton, get out of here. This kid and I are going to talk." The soldier had appeared on the balcony, and he disappeared just as fast.

I was dragged back into the room and shoved into a chair. The pistol looked menacing. Maliwan, Shock class, judging by the light blue trim. Probably packed a punch. I wouldn't make it long if that got me from this range. I managed to keep my face twisted into what I thought was a glare, but he remained unfazed, so I decided to correct him.

"There were no Bloodshots in that cave. You know why they attacked you? Probably becaused you walked into their home, uninvited, waving a fucking gun around. Someone shows up in your precious Sanctuary and starts trying to put holes in people, what the fuck are you gonna do? You're gonna fucking kill the bastard. That's how we operate. Welcome to fucking Pandora."

For a second—no, less than that, there was movement in Roland's eyebrows. His forehead wrinkled just a fraction of a fraction, not significant enough that anyone on the right end of his gun would have noticed. "No… We picked up an ECHO. Hyperion was making deals with them."

"Really. You got a name for their man? We fucking hated Hyperion." I spa

"Wayne something, I think."

The blood drained from my face faster than piss from a marauder. "… Bennett." It was a whisper.

"Yeah! That's right. Wayne Bennett. That's the guy. I even took an ECHO off him that proved it. It's gotta be around somewhere." Roland seemed to lose his concern for me. He holstered his gun and started rifling through drawers and filing cabinets, looking for his evidence. "Ah, here it is," He tossed the ECHO casually into my lap. So flippant about something that would turn my world upside down.

"The Eridium is at drop zone four." There was no question. The voice was right. It was him.

_No_.

Another voice. "Excellent. We'll take it when ready. Let us know if you come across anymore."

"What about my payment?"

_No No No. God dammit No._

"Ah, right. The three thousand will be in the usual place tomorrow, around five."

"Good."

The ECHO ended, but I wasn't brought back into reality until a few moments later, when Roland spoke again. "So there's your proof. You may hate Jack's company, but not everyone you knew did, and unfortunately that cost them. Are we on the same page?"

I sat, silent, for a little while. I guess Roland assumed I was reacting to the news that one of my own betrayed my… was it a tribe? Does it matter? I suppose not. He came back.

"I know it's a lot to process, but not everyone has to be a traitor. From what I hear, you can handle yourself in a firefight. Quite a skill at your age, though I guess that's my doing. I'm sorry about that. What's your name, kid?"

A pause. The air around me was heavy. It was heavy in my lungs. I couldn't stand up, even if I wanted to. Couldn't even lift my head. Just stared at the communicator in my lap.

"Ed. Edmund… Bennett." _My father worked for Handsome Jack._

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**Hell, that wasn't where I thought that would end. Took a lot longer than I thought to get to and through the dialogue with Roland. Well at least I know where the next chapter is gonna go! As always, if you liked it, review and tell me! If not, review and tell me! And no matter what, shoot the Skags in the mouth!**


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